You Found Me
by xRimiChii
Summary: Allen's the weird, quiet transfer student. Kanda's the mad at the world troublemaker. Roommates, surprises, secrets and annoyed PMSing teens. Now that's what I call entertainment. Possible Yullen pairing.
1. DREAMS AND BLOOD

**You Found Me**

…

**DREAMS AND BLOOD**  
Chapter One

…

"Girl," Kanda's eye twitched at the sound of the drunken voice as his gender, once again, was proved obviously hard to guess. The fact that he had no breast and a cock obviously didn't mean anything to the world.

"You ain't allowed in my fuckin' hallway without payment." The man slurred, staggering towards the samurai, obviously so drunk that he was incapable of standing properly on his feet. Kanda's eyes twitched, his expression warped into an ugly mask of fury as he stared unblinkingly at the jerk off who dared to call him a lady.

"Oh? And since when the fuck did this hellhole start lettin' students buy the hallways, dip shit?" He seethed irritably, knuckles clenched, ready to take a good swing at the football jocks.

One of the drunks staggered towards Kanda confusedly, looking behind the pissed teens shoulder. His eyes narrowed, before he smirked, and shook his head.

"W—whas up with that, gurl?" Another of the jocks asked, his slur worse than his friends. "You bringin tha' other gurl there for backup? Cuz either way, ya gotta pay the fi-ine."

Kanda looked behind him with a scowl to see what the hell the drunken moron was talking about. He watched as an oblivious teen approaced the scene, a white crop of hair clear on his head, slightly lengthened to approve the theory that he could be a girl, though, in Kanda's view, was obviously not. His eyes were downcast and his eyelashes were clearly long, dark, and overly-feminine. What the fuck? Why was a fuckin' fag coming towards them?

Kanda watched in annoyance as the labeled "fag" approached the scene, stopping for only a moment to glance at the pissed Kanda and three jocks, before continuing through the hallway at a normal pace. One of the drunks lumbered after him, and, upon hearing the footsteps approach, he spun and caught the wrist of his hand before it could successfully land on his shoulder.

"Yes?" He asked listlessly, gray-blue irises staring unblinking into the man's dark, dilated eyes. The man attempted to lash out with his other arm to strike the sixteen-year-old, only to have it caught midway with ease. The teen's lips were now pressed into a fine line as he twisted one of the drunk's wrists and kneed him in a rather sensitive area. He moaned and fell to the ground, clutching at his injured point, obviously in pain.

"Don't touch me," he murmured monotonously, and turned, stepping over the man on the ground, who was weeping loudly, a string of profanities flying from his mouth.

_Pathetic._

…

Kanda scowled and slammed the door open with far too much force, causing it to angrily rebound and hit his forehead. Growling in annoyance, he entered the double bedded dorm room and kicked the face-bruising door so that it would smash shut with unnecessary force.

Thoroughly irritated that the short, white-haired homo had beat him to kicking the drunks asses in the hallway, he grabbed his most precious possession—a sword he had named "Mugen"—and swung it at the bed opposite of his. Scowling unhappily as it cut too deeply into the wood, and therefore managed to get stuck, he pulled in irritation. Staggering backwards after losing his grip, the sword stubbornly stuck into the bed post. He glared at the object as if it would obediently un-lodge itself from the wood—his efforts, regrettably, were to no avail.

Putting one hand on the sharp edge of the sword and keeping the other on its handle, he pulled at both ends of the blade and ignored the stinging pain as a cut formed on his palm. Pulling at the sword in a long, continuous effort, it budged no more than a centimeter… a slight improvement, at least, but not enough to satisfy Kanda.

Pain shot up the teens arm as the wound grew gradually deeper, cutting through nerves and ligaments. Blood flowed freely, red droplets flowing onto the white sheets of the vacant bed—Kanda's soon-to-be-roommates bed. Unsatisfied as the blade budged a mere inch or two, Kanda pushed up angrily, trying to ignore the growing pain—

"I hope that's your bed you're cutting up," a voice announced in monotone, and Kanda spun in surprise to spot the white-haired boy from the hall leaning casually on the door-frame. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he sneered.

"Get out of my room, Moyashi." The boy gazed at him calmly, obviously unaffected by the rude tone or impolite nickname. His expression was blank and unwavering, his eyes slowly trailing to the elder boy's hand.

"Nice to meet you," He responded, though his voice didn't indicate that he thought so himself. "I'm your roommate, Allen Walker."

Kanda grunted, his eye twitching slightly as his vision became spotted with black dots due to his severely bleeding hand.

"Che," he bit out, shooting Allen a nasty look and flipping him the finger before turning to walk to his bed, leaving his sword implanted in the other bedpost. He sat on his bed, then grunted, "It's your bed, moron."

Leaning against the wall for support, Kanda blinked several times, trying to clear his vision as he wrapped the white bed-sheet around his hand tightly in order to stop the bleeding. He faintly heard a reply, though the voice seemed miles away, and saw a blur of white out of the corner of his eye. Kanda promptly slumped in the corner as his vision fogged again and his head pounded—then, he fainted.

_So much for getting the damned sword unstuck_, he thought hazily, as his mind slowing drifting into the horrid nightmares that dreamland had to offer.

…

Allen stared blankly as his roommate passed out against the wall, before letting out an annoyed sigh. Moving over to his bedpost, he stared at the bloody sword implanted into the wood. Grabbing the hilt, he gave a slight tug, and watched as it budged a few inched. Pulling again, he grunted as the sword un-lodged itself, and swept out towards the fifteen-year-olds face.

Dodging it swiftly, he pulled a piece of cloth from the pocket of his leather jeans and wiped the metallic substance from the blade. His sensitive nose twitched at the familiar metallic scent that filled the room and now covered the silk handkerchief—blood. The mere thought of it brought a foul taste to his mouth.

Brushing off the irrational loathing that he felt towards his roommate for doing such a stupid thing to his hand, he approached the bed and grabbed a long black case beside the still body, quickly sheathing the foul smelling object and laying it on the floor. His nose twitched again, for the smell was much stronger the closer he got to other teen.

Shooting the blue-haired samurai a short glare, he grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand towards him. Unwrapping it from the sticky sheet, Allen almost gagged—the smell was intoxicating, now. He watched in slight amazement as the wound began to heal itself, slowly but surely closing. That, of course, didn't mean it couldn't get infected. Allen's hand twitched as he pulled three small square packets containing peroxide from his back pocket, along with a small Band-Aid—hey, you never know when you'd fall and scrape your knee!

Tossing the useless Band-Aid aside, he ripped the first packet of peroxide open, removing the small cloth, and wiping down the bloody hand. He looked up at the samurai's face as it twisted in pain and brushed away any feelings of sympathy. The boy had done it to himself.

After thoroughly cleaning the wound, he grabbed the stained white sheet and turned it until he found a piece of clean white. Roughly pulling, he heard a ripping sound as he tore long, thin strips of the fabric. Once satisfied by the length, he grabbed Kanda's hand—gentler, this time—and wrapped the strips around the still-healing wound as tightly as possible.

Tying the make-shift bandage off, Allen grabbed the ruined sheet and empty packets of peroxide, before exiting the room with a click of the door.

…

Blood fell in soft, isolated drops onto the white shower floor, each kissing the tile as they made their way towards the spinning drain. Several washed away in the blink of an eye, caught by steamy water. Allen's body was trembled, the slight smell confusing him as he cracked open his right eye.

He quickly looked over his nude body for the source of the red flow; his deformed arm. A large gash had opened back up at some point during the shower, crimson spilling out from it, almost unnoticeable on the similarly-colored skin. His throat constricted painfully at the sight.

He inhaled. The air plastered musty copper into the back of his throat, choking him—the water wasn't heavy enough—he was sure he was being strangled by bloody ghosts within his lungs, inside his mouth, all over his skin.

He hated this—this constant blood suddenly reappearing in his life. First on his roommate, now on himself. Why couldn't it all just dissipate?

He knew it wasn't really there—but still, he could feel it. It was thick in his throat and his lungs burned—bleeding someone else's blood, hot rivulets searing along soft skin. It was undeniably strange.

The feeling of small, wet fingers against wounds. When had his fingers become that of a child's?

He looked away from the wound and followed the hand, looking forward—Impossible. It was him, standing there, in front of him. He was shorter and had more childish features—blood stained his red and green Christmas pajamas and his hair slowly melted from brown to a pure white. His eyes were pleading, as he grasped the arm of the real Allen. And then he was being pulled away.

It was happening so quickly, one minute he was there, the next being jerked back to reality by some unseen force—

"Oi, Moyashi!" Allen's eyes snapped open to find a blurry hand heading towards him. His body flinched away from it on reflex, him mind screamed at him in confusion—what just happened?

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. It had been a dream.

He willed his body to stop trembling as he noticed Kanda staring down at him with secretly curious eyes, and glared at the sneering man, secretly grateful to have been sprung from the nightmare.

"Yes?" His voice cracked and he prayed it would go unnoticed by the tall feminine teen. From the slight arch of his brow, he knew it hadn't.

"Go take a fuckin' shower and stop your moaning. You reek," His tone was purposefully rude; he turned his head away from the traumatized Allen—he had made noises? But... he never had dreams... and he sure as hell never made noises on the off occasion that he did.

...Probably.

He clenched his fist and untangled the white sheet from his sweaty limbs—sure enough, he emitted a rather strong odor, only partially covered by his deodorant.

His feet hit the wooden floor, sending tingling waves up his still-asleep left leg. Promptly ignoring it, he avoided Kanda's eyes as he walked towards the bathroom on the opposite side of the room, stopping for only a moment to pull a towel from the dresser at his bed's side.

"Moyashi," Allen stopped at the doorway and turned in recognition at the Japanese name Kanda had dubbed him as, finally meeting the other teen's eyes. He'd had enough time to pull together his mask on the short walk, so it was no longer an issue.

"Yes?" Kanda glared as the frosty gray-blue eyes stared at him emptily. Looking away, his eyes trailed down to his bandaged arm, eyebrows furrowing.

"Never mind," the man growled, annoyed, confused and overly tired.

Allen stared at him for a moment more before turning away before uttering one of the first unnecessary things he'd said in years.

"I can't sleep with the smell of blood in the room."

Kanda's eyes shot up towards the bathroom doorway to find it empty, the door swiftly swinging shut, the sound of a lock clicking into place. Shaking his head in annoyance, he grabbed his laptop bag, tossing it over his shoulder as he exited the room.


	2. COFFEE AND BLUE

**You Found Me**

…

**COFFEE AND BLUE**  
Chapter Two

…

To put it plainly, Kanda Yuu loved coffee. He was admittedly addicted to the bitter, caffeinated beverage, and everyday needed at least two cups to fill the calling. (Preferably above three, however.) He lived for Starbucks, because life without coffee was just… well, just _life._ Which wasn't a very desirable life, especially with damned Tiedoll lurking around every corner, waiting to pounce him for a 'loving' father-son hug. Kanda sneered—adopted son and lunatic was more like it.

Lavi, Kanda's annoying, self-proclaimed 'friend', always told him, trying to use a wise voice, and, of course, failing—"Coffee is Yuu's best friend, isn't it?" He remembered the red-head had pouted and whined obnoxiously—"And then it's Mugen. So where do _I_fit in! I'm not meant to be _third_on a top-ten list. Or, in your case, a top _three_ list."

Kanda grimaced slightly as he reached Starbucks… sure, he could be an up-tight bastard, and obviously no one liked him (and _he_liked it that way.) but did Lavi really only think he only had_three_things in the world he liked? He pondered on this, and then sighed, almost inaudibly. Then again, maybe the hyper-active rabbit was right. Maybe there was only room for three things in his life.

Shaking his head to get the "Stupid Rabbit" from his mind, he opened the doors with his usual scowl. The smell of ground coffee beans immediately shot up his nostrils, overwhelming his scenes as he blindly walked towards the counter, craving the drink more than life itself… What could he say? He was utterly, hopelessly addicted; no other explanation required, no questions, no moody bitch fits, just him and the fragrance and addicting taste of the brown liquid.

He didn't need to order—the coffee was sitting at his table waiting, as it always was at this time of morning. He had a tab that he paid monthly, always equaling up to one hundred dollars or more; this was, of course, usually prohibited, but in his case—since he had never missed a payment—it was acceptable.

His skin crawled at the smell, so he quickly strode over and took a large gulp, or two… or three, that is, from the tall cup. Closing his eyes at the blissful, bitter taste, he let a secret smile out on the lid of the drink. That is, until, a face randomly popped into his mind—white hair, childish yet somehow secretive clouded eyes, and a tight frown. He watched the image for a moment, as the kid—what was his name, again?—tossed and turned on a bed, tangling himself further into the sheets as bead of sweat trailed slowly down his neck and—

Kanda's eyes shot open as he realized what was happening, coffee spurring out of his mouth as he had a random, angry cough fit. It took a long moment to get the spasm under control, and after opening his tearing eyes and wiping away a bit of coffee that was dribbling down his chin, he glared angrily at the suddenly large audience he'd attained, furious. How dare that fucking brat invade his mind with his stupid fake-being-emotionless-to-get-attention plan, and then popular, and then a fan-club, and then… and then… ERG! It didn't fucking matter what the Moyashi's intentions were, he had still wasted a perfectly _amazing_ gulp of Kanda's life.

In other words, he had basically just stole Kanda's precious Mugen and stabbed him in the leg with it, or in the heart, or something… either way, it took a few years off his god-forsaken life. Then again… he stalked out of the coffee shop, as he pondered—

_Does it really matter? It's not like it matters if I die sooner…_

And as emo as it sounded, knew no one besides Lavi and Tiedoll would care if anything did happen to him. Lenalee too… but he hadn't seen her in years… she'd probably already forgotten he existed. With an overly exaggerated sigh and several death glares, Kanda pulled at his laptop case, irritated as he spotted a small stain on it—so help him, it better not be screwed up, or someone would be paying for it. And it sure as hell wouldn't be him.

…

Allen sneezed as he stepped out of the dorm room, heading towards his first class of the day. Wiping his nose in well-concealed confusion, as he never sneezed, or became sick, for that matter, he sighed. Must be the pollen in the air, he figured, sweeping past a disgruntled and slightly-irritated look blue haired teen on his way out. Well, someone had had a bad morning.

Snorting slightly at the large coffee stain on the shirt of Kanda, Allen continued along his path to class, quickly covering his laugh—or chortle… or maybe even cough-like sound—with a frown. The song "Bad Day" suddenly played through his mind, and thinking it to be a fitting song for today—as well as most days—he pulled out his iPod and flipped through it. Blocking out the real world with his sole reason for existence, music, was a routine thing for him. It made him numb, and oblivious to the stares, and rumors, and constant—oh, so horribly constant—laugher and cracks made towards his abnormal appearance.

"Fucking Moyashi," Kanda murmured to himself as he entered the bathroom to a wet floor and towel carelessly thrown on the counter. Somehow, he knew this was only going to get worse.

…

Allen was asleep by the time Kanda returned to the room, once again tossing and turning uncontrollably. He decided against waking him up, seeing that it seemed, from the blue bags under the teen's eyes, he didn't sleep often. Not that he cared, of course. He did, however, understand the feeling well—he detested sleep, always trying to thwart it off by pure will. Sure, he had nightmares every night, but that wasn't necessarily the reason—it was more so that—

His thoughts were abruptly interrupting from a loud fit of coughing from the stupid Moyashi, and with an annoyed glance in his general direction, his eyes narrowed at the blood slowly dripping out of his mouth, down lips… chin… onto his black tee.

Another furious spasm brought more blood spurring from his mouth, this time in a much large quantity—slightly confused, very annoyed, and very, very, very, VERY mildly worried, Kanda headed over to Allen's bed, leaning over him curiously.

His hand automatically, without order or command, reached towards the bleeding boys sleeping figure—and then, in a quick blur, it was snatched away by Allen, who was suddenly sitting, muffling a cough as he smeared blood onto his black, long-sleeved shirt. His eyes looked unfocused, a flash of confusion passing over his face as he blinked, trying to get rid of the horribly blurring image.

Slowly, he seemed to recognize Kanda, and with another few blinks, he looked almost apologetic as his grip loosened on his wrist. Kanda irritably jerked away, glaring at his still-bleeding roomy, who was suddenly clenching at his chest in evident pain. Another coughing fit ruptured through-out his body, shaking his small frame as he gasped for air, covering his mouth with a hand.

Slowly removing his hand from his mouth, he looked at it with slightly widened eyes—it was covered in the deep crimson he-so-obviously despised. "Oi…"

Allen quickly looked up to find an odd expression formed on Kanda's face—mangled between irritation, frustration, and maybe, just a bit, of worry? Allen shook his head to dismiss the odd thought—worry? For _him?_

_Get real._

"N—" Another four coughs. "Na…ni?"

(What?)

Kanda's face changed to a scowl. He hated when people randomly knew his language… then he couldn't say things insulting without them knowing what it was. It wasn't nearly as fun that way… not that it mattered, of course. Kanda wasn't _allowed_ to have _fun_, after all. Heaven forbid.

"You're bleeding." Kanda almost face-palmed... out of all of the stupid things he could have said, he said the absolute most _obvious,_ and worse, yet, it may make the Moyashi think he _cared_.

"It'll stop soon, probably." Allen lowered his eyes. "Sorry… for interrupting you from…" He glanced around, at Kanda bed, then at Kanda himself, his eyes suddenly appearing bluer than gray—an electric, brilliant, shocking blue. They were actually somehow enchanting—pretty, even.

Allen shrugged, unable to think of anything else. He was obviously as inexperienced as Kanda in the social and/or talking department.

"Your eyes—" Kanda randomly blurted, very distracted by the odd, yet somehow attractive change of color. Allen just… well, looked at him for a moment. He looked into Kanda's dark, black-ish eyes, semi-seeing himself. Quickly standing with strangely wide eyes, he stepped closer to Kanda, leaning his face forward, until their lips were almost touching, at which Kanda's eyes narrowed, and then, as he got ready to push him away, beyond annoyed at this point…

…Allen's hand roughly gripped Kanda's shoulders, one hand surprisingly stronger than another—ridiculously so, in fact. Probably enough to break a bone, or Kanda's neck, or… or…

Kanda's eyes clouded in confusion, and he winced in pain as the grip got tighter, still—then, the Moyashi's frame went ridged, the grip disappearing as he fell forward, towards Kanda. And suddenly his lips smashed against the other teens, though only for a second, as he slowly slid downwards, further, and further still.

Kanda, furious, shocked, and far beyond confusion at this point grabbed the falling Allen by his collar, raising him to eye level and giving him a rather rough shake, only to realize that he was out cold.

"…the fuck?"


End file.
